


Here There Be Lions

by oftirnanog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts, M/M, Marauders' Era, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5438210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftirnanog/pseuds/oftirnanog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Marauders while at Hogwarts before Remus and Sirius get together and while James is still making a fool of himself in front of Lily. He'll win her over eventually. Remus and Sirius will be oblivious of their own feelings for a while. (I found this in my files and also on my old LJ account. I re-read it and found I actually kind of like it, even though it's incomplete and the story's been done approximately 5 billion times. So here you go. It'll probably never be finished, but I might actually add to it if I post it here.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

September 1975

Remus is standing on the platform waiting for his parents to follow him through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters when a pair of hands covers his eyes from behind. They are accompanied by a voice, loud in his ear and several octaves too high, saying, “Guess who?”

“Well, it can’t possibly be Sirius Black as I recall his saying that he could no longer be friends with me on account of my new prefect status,” Remus replies dryly.

The hands remove themselves from Remus’ eyes and Sirius moves to stand in front of him, grinning like a madman. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Sirius says, slinging his arm casually across Remus’ shoulders. “I’ve heard he’s full of shit much of the time.”

“Hmm,” is all Remus says in response, but smiles in spite of himself as he picks at the fraying sleeve of his cardigan. There’s an oddly canine scent hovering around Sirius and Remus can’t determine where it’s come from. There’s not a thief’s chance in Gringott’s that Sirius’ parents would allow a dog into their pristine and so-called noble house.

“Where’re your parents?” Remus asks. He’s not sure why he asks it. Sirius’ face immediately turns sullen and irritable and he removes his arm from Remus’ shoulder so he can shove his hands deep in his pockets.

“Over there somewhere,” he replies, flicking his chin up vaguely. “With their respectable son.” He spits out the word ‘respectable’ with such contempt it is amazing the word has the gall to continue existing.

Remus scratches his nose awkwardly wishing he hadn’t brought it up and wondering where his own parents have gotten to.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius calls and Remus has to turn to see whom he’s addressing.

He catches sight of James’ bespectacled face in the crowd, flanked by his mum and dad and followed, strangely enough, by Remus’ own parents.

“There you are, dear,” his mother says, straightening his collar for him. “We wondered where you’d gotten to.”

“Right here,” Remus replies, trying to move away from his mother’s worried fingers. Much as Remus Lupin loves his mum, she always fusses rather too much when he goes off to school every year. 

“Alright, well, the train’s about to leave so be good, don’t get into too much trouble,” his mother says all this into his neck, as she’s pulled him into a tight hug and he’s about half a foot taller than her. 

“I will mum,” he says, gently extracting himself from her surprisingly strong arms. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“Take care of yourself,” his dad says, but winks conspiratorially before stepping back and pulling his wife with him to leave Remus with his friends. 

James is bickering with his mother about something—his shoes, by the sounds of it. Remus glances down and notices the well-worn pair of sneakers whose soles are peeling away from the uppers. 

“They had this argument all bloody summer,” Sirius says quietly in Remus’ ear. “James had to rescue them from the bin.”

Remus looks round at Sirius who grins at him, but Remus can see the envy in his face. Sirius doesn’t resent James his parents, Remus knows that much, but he also knows that Sirius wishes he had a parent to argue with about something as mundane as shoes without something more sinister lurking behind the words. Not that Sirius would ever admit that. 

“What was that you were calling James before?” he asks, performing a quick sweep of the platform, trying to catch sight of Peter. He’s late every year and Remus always wonders if this year will be the year he actually misses the train. “Have you decided we all need unfortunate nicknames now and not just me?”

“Don’t be jealous, you’ll always be my ickle Moonykins, prefect’s badge or no.”

“No, apparently Sirius just wants to the destroyer of surprises,” James appears on Remus’ other side, his hair distinctly more rumpled for his mother having tried to tame it.

“Surprises?” Remus asks warily. Nothing good ever comes of James and Sirius’ surprises. In the very best scenario you would end up soaking wet with cake in your hair and ears and perhaps tangled in gift-wrap. The worst scenario—Remus shudders to think of it. “What have you two been up to this summer? Have you been concocting potions again?”

“Tsk, such little faith,” Sirius chides. “We were not dabbling in something so mundane as potions.”

“All in good time, Moony old chap,” James says, clapping him on the shoulder. “There’s Pete!” He raises a hand and waves him over.

“You remember that I’m a prefect now, don’t you? You can’t be pulling me into your schemes all the time,” Remus says, trying to keep on the topic at hand.

“Do you really think we’d try and corrupt your inherent prefectly virtue?” Sirius asks with mock injury. The effect is ruined by a smile that demonstrates how very much they intend to corrupt it.

Remus sighs resignedly. He was expecting this of course. Was Dumbledore aware of the position he’d put him in? The more intelligent part of his brain reminds him that this is likely the very reason he’s been put in said position.

“Hi Pete,” he says as the smaller boy finally pushes his way through the crowd to take his place with the rest of them.

“I thought I was going to miss it,” Peter replies breathlessly. “We’d better board.”

Remus makes his way onto the scarlet steam engine with his friends and tries to subtly break off from them, but he is stopped by a cold grip on his wrist—Sirius of course, whose fingers are always freezing for indiscernible reasons. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, fixing him with a stern gaze. He knows perfectly well where Remus is going, but his nature insists he make a big deal about it.

“Prefect’s carriage,” Remus says, “As you well know.”

Sirius frowns. 

“I’ll come find you when I’m done. I’m sure they won’t need me for the whole journey.”

Sirius nods and with the disarming swiftness that always bubbles at the surface of his personality slaps a smile back on his face and winks. “No getting frisky with your fellow prefects.”

Remus rolls his eyes and continues on his way, promptly running into Lily Evans in the corridor. 

“Hi, Remus,” she says warmly. He is the only one of the four them she will deign to speak to. Well, she’s mostly indifferent to Peter, but James and Sirius are only ever privy to her wrath. And James has developed an unfortunate crush on her. “You made prefect too then. I thought you might.”

She smiles at him and Remus tries to genuinely return it, but all he can think is that he will never hear the end of it from James. 

***

Sirius stares moodily out the window not really seeing the passing scenery. James and Peter are playing exploding snap and Remus is off doing prefect things with his new prefect friends, looking and smelling prefectly. The more rational part of Sirius’ brain knows that it’s not Remus’ fault and that he’d probably rather be with his friends and, all things considered, this is actually a good thing to happen to Remus (who really doesn’t get enough good things in his life). But Sirius doesn’t want to listen to that part of his brain—Sirius wants to sulk. So he glares at the fields of sheep and kicks absently at the empty seat in front of him—the one that’s supposed to contain Remus. 

“Would you quit that?” James snaps suddenly.

Sirius scowls at him and demands, “What?”

“Kicking your bloody feet like a five-year old,” James replies. Then, “What died in your pants this morning?”

“Not Kreacher, unfortunately.”

James’ face becomes sympathetic. “Were they horrible today?” he asks.

Sirius shrugs as though he doesn’t care. “They’re always horrible.”

“At least you’re shot of them for the year. Mum and Dad invited you for Christmas,” he says, then promptly disappears behind a cloud of smoke as his hand of cards explodes in his face.

Sirius grins when James’ face emerges from the smoke, slightly singed around the eyebrows, glasses sooty, and hair in further dishevelment. He forgets sometimes how much better things get when he’s away from his family. James, Remus, and Peter are like a tonic after being at home most of the summer. Even this simple image of James, whom he’s seen like this more times than he can count, is like a breath of fresh air for Sirius. He grins wider as James attempts to wipe his lenses clean on his shirt and succeeds only in smearing them. Eventually he gives it up and taps them with his wand. 

As James adjusts his glasses on his nose Sirius can feel his anger and sulkiness begin to ebb away, like he’s leaving them back on the platform. Then the compartment door slides open and Remus smiles casually, his prefect badge pinned neatly on his chest.

“Not getting into too much trouble without me, are you?” he teases, regarding James and eyeing the smudge of soot he still has on his cheek.

“James was just demonstrating a fool proof way to lose spectacularly at exploding snap,” Sirius says as James scowls at him.

“It’s Peter’s deck, I think it’s rigged,” James says, jutting his chin stubbornly so that he looks twelve years old again.

“I borrowed it from Remus, end of last year!” Peter protests.

“Ah,” Sirius says knowingly as Remus takes a seat across from him, “So the prefect’s to blame after all. What ever will we do with you, Moony?”

Remus arches an eyebrow at him and then rolls his eyes. He’s stopped trying to prevent Sirius from using the nickname, but still acts like it bothers him. Sirius knows better, and in any case it won’t matter soon because they’ll all have nicknames just as soon as next full moon rolls around. They finally perfected the animagus transformation over the summer while he and Peter spent a week at James’.

“So who else made prefect?” Peter asks as he gathers his cards together.

Remus looks at his knees and smoothes his trousers they way he does when he’s being evasive.

“Mulciber and Jennifer Avery for Slytherin, Amelia Bones and George MacMillan for Hufflepuff, and Tory Amos and Jillian Hopkirk for Ravenclaw,” he replies.

He’s left one name out so Sirius asks, “Who’s the other Gryffindor?” even though he’s fairly certain he knows the answer.

Remus gives him a slightly pleading look and mumbles, “Lily.”

James bolts forward in his seat, his eyes boggling ridiculously behind his glasses. “Evans?” he demands.

“No,” Remus says sarcastically, “The other red-headed fifth year named Lily for whom you haven’t developed ill-advised feelings.”

Sirius feels a flash of irritation at James’ expression—slightly pained and very desperate—and another at Remus’ acerbic response. He suspects that Remus also has a crush on Lily—less insane and obsessive than James’, but a crush nonetheless. Sirius thinks he has rather a better chance with Lily than James does, since she actually likes Remus. Of course Remus would never do anything about it because James has declared her off limits in the name of his quest to woo her. And that suits Sirius just fine because it’s bad enough that James falls all over himself around her without Remus then doing the same.

“So you’ll be spending lots of time with her then?” James asks. Peter is looking at him with wide eyes that might be disbelief or fear—either would be appropriate.

“Well, I guess when we have meetings and things. There’ll always be other people around,” he replies, as though to make it perfectly clear that he’s not trying to make a move on James’ girl—not that she’s actually James’ girl.

“But you could put in a good word for me?” he asks. Sirius can see a moment of relief slide over Remus’ face when he realizes that James is pleading rather than accusing. The look is swiftly replaced by one of pity as he glances warily in James’ hopeful direction.

“Well…” Remus begins.

Sirius snorts and says, “James, unless he’s slipping her Amortentia, I don’t think he’s got much chance of success.”

James frowns and deflates back against his seat. “She’ll come round,” he insists. “You’ll see.”

Remus looks skeptical and moves to pull a book out of his bag in order to avoid discussing the matter further.

“No!” Sirius shouts, having none of it and so snatching the book out of reach before Remus can even open it. He’s not losing him to books this early in the term. “There will be plenty of time for this later in the year,” he admonishes. “We haven’t seen you all summer and now you’ve been all prefect-y for half this trip. No books.”

Remus sighs, but smiles resignedly at Sirius anyway.

“Fine,” he says, “Maybe we could talk about you lot got up to this summer.”

Peter lets out a small squeak, which Sirius finds hilariously appropriate, and casts a slightly wary look at Remus.

Sirius just grins and lounges back in his seat, “All in good time, Moony.”

***

Lily wanders over to Remus and his friends at the end of the feast and James nearly chokes on his last mouthful of pudding trying to swallow it as fast as he can.

He still manages some semblance of suavity when he says, “All right, Evans?”

“Sod off, Potter,” she replies.

“Careful there, Evans. Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you don’t like me,” James replies, grinning broadly and running a hand through his hair.

Remus winces slightly and Sirius rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Oh good, I was starting to worry that wasn’t coming across,” she bites back.

“What do you want, Evans?” Sirius demands.

“Cool it, Black, I’m just here for Remus,” she replies, and then turns to Remus. “We have to show the first years to the dorms.”

Remus nods and stands to follow her. He glances back at his friends apologetically to see Sirius’ lip curled into a sneer as he looks after Lily, channeling every bit of Black disdain he can into his features. His face falls immediately into something Remus can’t recognize when their eyes meet. Remus quirks his lips into a small smile that Sirius returns before he turns back to James.

“First years this way,” Lily says ahead of him. “Keep close.”

Remus catches up with her and falls in beside her as they move out of the Great Hall.

“How do you stand them?” Lily bursts suddenly.

Remus blinks, slightly taken aback, and then sighs, shoulders sagging. “They’re not as bad as they seem,” he says. “I know they come across as…”

“Cruel, arrogant berks?” Lily supplies harshly.

Remus tries not to wince at hearing his friends described as such, mostly because he can’t readily deny it. He can’t refute James’ and Sirius’ arrogance, though he wouldn’t go so far as to call them cruel—maybe Sirius, when he’s in a particular mood, but certainly not James—unless, perhaps, Snape is involved.

“You just don’t know them the way I do,” he says, because it’s true and also the only defense he has.

Lily throws him a skeptical look.

“They’re really good friends,” he says. “They’d do anything for me.”

“Hm,” is all Lily manages as a response.

“If you just gave them a chance…” Remus starts. He figures he can at least try for James, because James really isn’t a bad guy, even if he is a cocky shit at times. It doesn’t help that his behaviour becomes even more obnoxious around Lily.

“Did James ask you to talk him up to me?” Lily asks suspiciously.

“I-” Remus says, trying to prevent his face from showing the heat he can feel creeping up his neck at being caught out.

Lily shakes her head, Remus’ lack of response enough to confirm her theory.

“Will he ever give up?” she asks.

“I doubt it,” Remus says, valiantly squashing down the pained look that wants to claim his features.

Lily sighs and then tells the portrait of the Fat Lady, “Moonstone.”

Remus scrunches his nose in distaste. It feels a bit like a bad joke. As if he needed any extra reminders of the moon’s omnipresence in his life. No doubt he’s going to hear a lengthy expenditure from Sirius regarding this password’s brilliance. The corner of his lip twitches up at the thought.

“Do you think maybe you could tell James that it’s never going to happen?” she asks when they’ve stepped into the common room.

“I fear that would only fuel his efforts,” Remus informs her.

She scrunches her nose, far more attractively than Remus just did, and sighs. “Well, never mind then,” she says, and then turns to the group of first years to give them the essential information.

Remus presses his lips together as he looks at the small faces in front of him—some eager, some nervous, some awestruck—and thinks to himself that this is going to be a very long year.

***

Remus awakes early their first Saturday back. He’s never been able to sleep properly, unlike his friends who likely won’t roll out of bed until they start serving lunch in the Great Hall. He can hear gentle snoring emanating from behind closed curtains and it isn’t until scrounging for his rucksack that he notices Sirius’ bed is empty. This is extremely unusual as he’s often the last up out of the four of them. 

Remus trudges down to the common room, quiet in the early morning light, and finds Sirius reading a book in one of the good armchairs by the fire. This is even more surprising than his being up early. Much as Sirius achieves excellent grades and seems to know all the answers for every assignment and test, Remus rarely sees him reading. He sometimes wonders if Sirius has special powers by which he stuffs the book under his pillows and absorbs the information while he sleeps.

“You’re up early,” Remus comments, sitting in the chair next to Sirius.

Sirius looks up and says ruefully, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Remus nods. He wants to ask him if something’s bothering him because he’s been a bit off this past week, but Remus knows better. Sirius will laugh it off and then tease him for being concerned. Or worse, he’ll get into a sulk out of which only James will be able to drag him.

“Can you believe how much Transfiguration we have already?” he asks, pulling the heavy text and some fresh parchment out of his bag.

Sirius shrugs and says, with annoying carelessness, “It’s easy.”

“How nice for you,” Remus replies dryly, glancing over his notes to read the details of their assignment. 

“Well I can’t help it if I find it easy,” Sirius says. Sometimes Remus wonders at the extent of Sirius’ ego. But then he thinks that if he could glide through classes as fluidly and easily as water runs down a river he’d be hard pressed not to be cocky about it as well.

“No need to rub it in,” Remus says, a grudging edge to his voice.

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding it at all. But then he says, “You can look over mine if you like?” nodding at the parchment sitting on the table in front of them.

“You’ve finished already?” Remus asks in disbelief. “When did you have time to do it?”

“This morning.”

“It’s eight o’clock. How long have you been up?”

“Since six I guess,” Sirius replies, shoulders twitching in a not-quite-there shrug. “I told you I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you chose to do homework to pass the time?” Remus asks skeptically.

Sirius shrugs fully this time and leans forward enough that his hair falls in front of his eyes. “Peter’s impossible to wake up and James likely would’ve hexed me. Ever been hit by a hex from James when he’s just woken up? Likely to wind up with tentacles all over your face. I don’t know how he does it. His half-asleep hexes are more dangerous than when he’s fully awake. I think it’s because he mixes them up and so they turn out really wonky and horrifying.” He grins at Remus, “I couldn’t risk my good looks just for a bit of company in the morning.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Remus asks, inexplicably hurt that he wasn’t even considered an option. “I never sleep.”

“Right. Exactly. And for once you were. It’s three days ‘til the full. I figured you could use the rest,” Sirius replies, the last part coming out a bit quietly.

Remus doesn’t respond right away. It’s so uncharacteristically thoughtful of Sirius, and even more uncharacteristic that he gave Remus a real answer—one that wasn’t hidden behind a joke.

“Are you all right?” Remus asks suddenly, unable to help himself.

Sirius looks bewildered. “What?” He stares at Remus for a moment and Remus wonders if his own expression mirrors Sirius’. “Because I didn’t jump on your head like a wild animal to wake you up this morning?” Sirius asks.

“Honestly?” Remus says, “Yes.” If Remus had a knut for every time Sirius woke him by jumping on his head shrieking like a banshee for all the world like his bed curtains were on fire, Remus could buy himself new dress robes. 

Sirius quirks his mouth in mild indignation. “Just because I’m a right prat most of the time doesn’t mean I’m an insensitive git.”

Remus raises his eyebrows at Sirius, the King of Insensitivity. 

Sirius rolls his eyes in defeat, “All right, it doesn’t mean I’m an insensitive git all the time.” He grins like the Cheshire cat and stands up. “Breakfast? You’ve got all day to do that,” he says, gesturing at the as-yet-not-started assignment in Remus’ lap. “You need fuel to keep the mind sharp.” He taps a knowing finger on his temple.

Remus glances down at his work, half-shrugs to himself, then dumps it unceremoniously into his bag. He stands to follow to Sirius, who gives him a mild shove as they walk across the room. Remus stumbles, lets out a hiss of pain and says, “Ow.”

“Shit, Moony, sorry,” Sirius bends towards Remus, brow furrowed with concern.

Remus allows himself a moment to feel guilty before a wide grin overtakes his features and he says, “Gotcha!” before jumping out of Sirius’ reach.

“Bastard!” Sirius exclaims.

Remus scarpers and lets out a laugh that bears embarrassingly close resemblance to a giggle as Sirius chases him through the portrait hole.

***

The sun is just beginning to set when James finally locates Remus in the library. He shakes his head as he walks towards Remus, who hasn’t even looked up from the massive Potions tome in front of him. James peers over Remus’ shoulder and, sure enough, sees that he’s actually reading ahead. James will never understand what it is about Potions that so adamantly evades Remus every year. There’s no question that Remus is brilliant—not as obviously or as easily as James and Sirius are, but brilliant nonetheless. And pants at potions. 

“About done there?” James asks.

Remus lifts his head and looks at James in mild surprise. James can’t help smiling at him because it’s so obvious that Remus didn’t hear James come up behind him. He probably hasn’t heard anything properly since he entered the library. Remus has this strange ability to turn off his sense of hearing when he’s studying. It’s as though the rest of the world just drops away, leaving Remus alone with his book and piles upon piles of parchment. It always takes him a moment to pull out of it and remember where he is.

“Well,” Remus hesitates, glancing back down at the text. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Come on,” James says. “We’re not meant to cover that for two weeks. Wait ‘til I tell Sirius you’re so far ahead this early in the term. He’ll never let it go.”

Remus blinks at him and nods, flipping the cover of the book shut quietly. Remus always respects the silence of the library. It probably helps that Madam Pince would have anyone’s head on a platter for disturbing said silence. On the other hand Remus is living proof that Pince doesn’t like anybody because you’d think she would have warmed up to Remus after all these years, what with all the time he spends in the library, actually enjoying the books and the quiet. But she hasn’t.

“I’ve got something to show you, let’s go.”

James laughs at the suspicious look on Remus’ face, earning him a look of pure loathing from the librarian on their way out. 

“What is it?” Remus asks.

“It’s a surprise,” James insists, tugging Remus into an empty corridor and pulling his invisibility cloak out from under his robes.

“Where exactly are we going that makes that necessary?” Remus asks, eyeing the cloak.

“Just out to the grounds,” James assures him. “But we’re not technically supposed to be down there now, are we?”

Remus rolls his eyes. “We could have gone down earlier.”

“Maybe we would have done if you hadn’t been holed up with the books.”

Remus gives him an incredulous look and James concedes, “Well, okay, the lack of people is actually what we were going for, but you won’t regret it I promise.”

“Am I about to find out what you three were up to this summer?”

“Naturally,” James says, swinging the cloak over them and checking to see that their feet are sufficiently covered.

Remus sighs resignedly and James knows that he has him—not that there’s ever a time when he doesn’t have Remus. All it takes is some well-timed and carefully worded convincing. Sometimes James thinks that Remus protests out of habit, or perhaps now out of his duty as prefect. Regardless, Remus can never say no to him or Sirius. There are times they may take advantage of this, but mostly they just want him to have fun. Remus is always so subdued. Once they found out about the whole werewolf thing James recognized that Remus remains thus mostly as though to compensate for what he is once a month. So he needs them to bring him back out and remember that he’s fifteen not fifty.

They make their way carefully out of the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest where Sirius and Peter are already waiting. 

“Where exactly are we going?” Remus asks, his gaze fixed warily on the forest.

“Just a bit further,” James says, keeping a firm grip on Remus’ wrist even as he pulls the cloak off of them.

James sees Sirius before Remus does—a giant black dog bounding towards them, a bit ferocious and menacing. If James didn’t know better he’d be tempted to turn tail and run, so it’s to Remus’ credit that he lets the dog bowl him over. James laughs as Remus tries to scramble away. He tries to shield his face from sloppy dog kisses, but Sirius turns back into Sirius before he really has a chance. 

James takes this as his cue to go stag. The look on Remus’ face when he turns and sees the antlered animal instead of his bespectacled friend is well worth the effort of turning this whole thing into a surprise.

Sirius lets out a laugh like a bark, still on top of Remus with one leg on either side of his waist, and says, “Well, what do you think? Are we bloody brilliant or what?”

“What have you done?” Remus asks, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

Sirius stands and pulls Remus to his feet. James changes back and watches as Peter appears behind Remus. He hadn’t even noticed the rat, small and crouched in the grass. James hurries closer to his friends. 

“Took us a few years, but we finally figured it out,” he says. “We’re animagi.”

“But, isn’t that dangerous?” Remus asks.

Sirius shrugs and gives the only answer Sirius Black is capable of giving, “We did it, didn’t we?” 

James can’t help but grin even wider at Sirius’ confidence in them. He’d never once doubted that they’d be able to pull it off.

“But, why?” Remus asks

“So we can join you for full moons,” James says. He should have thought that much was obvious.

Remus blinks.

“I’m small enough to get to the knot in the willow,” Peter explains. “And James and Sirius are big enough to keep the wolf in check.”

Remus looks like he wants to say something, but instead swallows heavily and just regards them in disbelief. James recognizes this look. It’s the same one he had when they found out he was a werewolf—like he can’t quite understand why they’re friends with him. James shakes his head a bit. He can almost see the struggle that’s taking place in Remus’ mind—the knowledge that this is illegal warring with his appreciation. Eventually the latter wins out, but not without some semblance of admonishment. 

“You’re mental,” Remus says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling now.

“But brilliant,” Sirius responds, slinging an arm across Remus’ shoulders.

“So this is what you were up to all summer?”

“Well…” Sirius says. James knows he’s hesitating to tell Remus just how long they’ve been trying to work this out. It sounds much more impressive if they’d done it all over a single summer.

“We finally perfected it over the summer,” James supplies.

“We’ve actually been trying to work it out since third year,” Sirius admits, and for some reason he looks sheepish.

“We could’ve done it faster with your help, but Sirius wanted to keep it a surprise,” Peter says.

For a moment Sirius frowns and looks as though he might go after Peter for pinning it on him, even though it’s true. James steps beside him on Remus’ other side. The look quickly slides away, however, and is replaced by his typical cocky grin. 

“Didn’t think you’d approve, Moony,” he says. “Couldn’t have you talking us out of it.”

Remus opens his mouth, James is sure to confirm that he would have indeed talked them out of it and provide a long list of reasons why. Sirius slams a hand over his mouth.

“Nothing you can do about it now,” James says, resting his elbow on Peter’s shoulder. “You’re stuck with us.”

Sirius removes his hand and a look of comprehension settles over Remus. “Oh, I get it now. Prongs. Because of the antlers.”

James and Sirius beam at each other. 

“And Sirius is Padfoot and Pete’s Wormtail,” James says.

Remus shakes his head, but smiles at each of them in turn, all fond appreciation.

Sirius pulls Remus towards him and knocks their foreheads together affectionately. “So what do you say?” he asks.

“It’s brilliant,” Remus concedes. “Thanks.”

Peter nods. “In three nights we ride.”

Remus chuckles and Sirius crows and James launches himself at the two of them, tackling them to the ground before reaching out and dragging Peter down with them. 

***

The wolf snarls at the beam of moonlight streaming across the shack’s floor. It launches itself—angry, hungry, coiled with suppressed energy—at the walls, tears at the furniture, claws at the old battered wood before turning on itself. The shack creaks, bends against the weight, but never snaps, always rocks back into place, holding fast against the wolf’s blows. Blood, sweat, dust, and early autumn decay hang on the air. Scents mingle and drift apart, curl around each other and smother one another.

The wolf pauses—something else on the air tonight, something else canine, something else animal. Ears perk forward, catch the faint scurry of tiny paws beneath the clack of larger nails beneath the pound of heavier hooves. The wolf turns toward the sound, shackles up, attack stance ready, lips curled around unforgiving teeth. A warning howl. The door bursts open to reveal stag, dog, and almost invisible rat (lost in the dust that rises in torrents under swift steps).

Black dog on cautious paws moves forward, sniffs tentatively. The wolf growls until the dog lowers, submissive. The wolf moves forward, smells a friend, snaps playfully, and the dog is up. They bound around the stag’s ankles, rat scurrying to avoid large paws. The stag shakes his head, snorts, stomps at being left out.  
And then they’re off, all of them—bounding, scurrying, prancing, lit by moonlight and stars. The infinite night is theirs.

***

Sirius is sitting beside James on the couch in the common room during their spare period, his legs jiggling up and down with badly suppressed impatience.

“Do you think Moony’s better than he usually is?” Sirius asks for the seven-thousandth time.

“Yes,” James answers patiently. It’s the same answer he’s been giving Sirius all morning. 

Sirius takes a moment to fully appreciate how grateful he is for James. James understands him in a way no one else does or is able to. Even when Sirius is in one of his more irritating moods James is always eternally patient with him. Sirius supposes it’s only fair though. After all, he puts up with James’ incessant yammering over Evans. Though perhaps less tolerantly so.

James furrows his brow as he examines the paper in front of him.

“I think you’ve mixed up the numbering on these, Pete,” he says.

Peter looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, his charms text open across his lap.

“The answer you have here labeled five is actually answering question six,” James leans over to point it out. “I think you’ve skipped five altogether.”

Peter scrunches his nose as he examines the question. “Bugger,” he says, taking it from James. “Thanks. I’ll fix that.”

Sirius groans in frustration and throws himself back against the cushions.

“I don’t see why we can’t just dip down to see him now,” Sirius complains.

He’s been anxious to see Remus all morning and find out how he’s doing. He’s fairly certain that he’ll be in much better shape than he usually is, but he wants to know for sure. Sirius knows the transformation itself is very painful and he isn’t sure how many of Remus’ wounds are a result of that.

“As I’ve already said approximately eleven hundred and twenty two times this morning,” James says, looking at Sirius the way one might look at a child demanding ‘are we there yet?’ “Pomfrey never lets us in until lunch. Pacing outside the hospital wing isn’t going to do anyone any good.”

Sirius lets out a great huff of air and adopts a look of world-weariness and utter misery.

“Since when do you worry about him this much anyway?” James asks with raised eyebrows.

Sirius frowns. “I’m not worried,” he says, a bit too sharply. “I just want to know if it worked.”

“Hey,” Peter says suddenly, pointing at the portrait hole. “There he is.”

“Moony!” James exclaims, sitting straighter in his seat.

Sirius stands up and takes two steps to close the distance between them. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Pomfrey let me go early,” Remus says with a small smile. He still looks exhausted, but Sirius can see how happy he is. He doesn’t look as thoroughly beaten as he normally does right after the full. “She’s not letting me go to class though.” He actually sounds disappointed about it.

Sirius grins and says, “You look great.”

Remus looks incredulous.

“Well,” Sirius shrugs. “Comparatively speaking.”

“You feel all right?” James asks.

Remus nods. “Yeah. I could’ve gone earlier, but Pomfrey didn’t believe I was well enough. She made me promise to get in bed straight away.”

“Well, we can go upstairs,” Sirius says, not wanting Remus to over exert himself. He looks expectantly at James.

Peter is giving him a panic-stricken expression as he clutches his transfiguration notes. It’s due after lunch.

“You go ahead,” James says. “I’m going to help Pete finish this.” He smiles at Remus and adds, “I’m glad it’s better.”

“Me too,” Remus says.

“Come on,” Sirius says in an exaggeratedly clipped tone. “Off we go. Can’t have you coming over faint on us.”

Remus rolls his eyes good-naturedly and dutifully follows Sirius upstairs. Sirius watches him all the while he gets into bed. He’s moving slowly and he has a few bandages on his arms and a cut above his right eye. But it’s the best he’s ever looked this early the morning after.

“So it really helped?” Sirius asks, for some reason needing to hear Remus confirm the fact before he’s satisfied.

Remus nods as Sirius sits down on the edge of Remus’ bed. “It really did help. A lot. You should have seen Pomfrey. She couldn’t believe it. She looked suspicious the entire time, like it was a prank or something.” He chuckles softly and Sirius smiles along with him. “I’m not nearly as cut up,” Remus continues. “And my muscles don’t ache as much.”

“Good,” Sirius says. He lies down next to Remus so they’re face to face on the pillow. “You didn’t think it would help, did you?” Sirius asks, recognizing the surprised disbelief in Remus’ eyes.

Remus averts his eyes, guilty. “Honestly. No. I didn’t.”

“Why not?” Sirius demands indignantly.

“My parents spent years trying to find a cure,” Remus explains. “And when it was obvious that was never going to happen, they looked for ways to make it easier, less painful, less exhausting, less horrible in any way possible. Nothing ever worked. So I wasn’t really expecting this to be any different. I was just happy not to have to do it alone for once.” He smiles softly, eyes locked on Sirius. 

Sirius can see all the little flecks of gold in his eyes and feels his stomach flip and clench hotly. He swallows and resists the urge to brush Remus’ hair away from his forehead.

“Well, I’m glad it turned out so well,” he says quietly, just above a whisper. “These be the full moons of the future, after all.” He grins widely and Remus chuckles.

“I’m going to sleep now,” Remus says through a yawn. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Okay,” Sirius says. Remus’ eyes are already closed, but Sirius doesn’t plan on going anywhere. His own eyelids are fighting to close and he doesn’t have to be anywhere else for another hour. So with a contented sigh Sirius lets himself fall asleep, the close warmth of Remus keeping him company.


	2. Chapter 2

“So first Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks,” James informs them over breakfast. It’s a rainy day, ominous clouds roll across the ceiling of the Great Hall promising to leave them soaking wet by the time they reach the greenhouses for Herbology.

            “Think Evans will agree to go with me?” James asks when nobody comments on his previous statement.

            “No,” Remus, Sirius, and Peter say in unison—Peter through a mouthful of eggs and Sirius as though he’s addressing the ceiling.

            “Oi!” James protests. “Some friends you lot are. Where’s your loyalty? Where’s your faith in my irresistible charms?”

            “It got lost somewhere in the depths of reality,” Remus responds, not bothering to glance up from his copy of the Daily Prophet.

            “I hate you all,” James informs them. “Hey, here she is.” He sits up straighter and runs his fingers through his hair causing it to stand up almost straight at the back.

            Remus grins at him in amusement while Sirius shakes his head.

            “Some might say you have a pathological need for humiliation,” Sirius says.

            James pointedly ignores him and asks Peter, “Do I look all right?”

            “Yeah,” Peter responds, looking surprised at being asked for his opinion on the matter. “You always look all right.”

            Remus knows it’s because James needs an ego boost and Peter would never tell James that he _didn’t_ look all right even if he’d just been subjected to the Dementor’s Kiss.

            “Good morning, Evans,” James says loudly—some would say obnoxiously.

            Remus wonders why it is that James always seems to do these things in front of a large audience. It certainly doesn’t help him prove his case that he’s _not_ an attention-seeking narcissist. Remus sighs and chances a glance at Lily, who gives him a look that says she holds Remus at least partially responsible for his friends’ distasteful actions. Remus buries his face back in his paper in an attempt to ignore the scene that is taking place in front of him. Unfortunately a lengthy diatribe about the merits of flying carpets and a case for their re-instatement in Britain proves to be insufficient as a distraction.

            “So what do you say to coming into Hogsmeade with me in a couple weeks?” James asks, leaning down the table to look at Lily.

            “Not if my life depended on it, Potter,” Lily responds. She is dutifully refusing to look at him.

            “Come on,” James presses. “Just give me one chance.”

            Lily chooses to delicately take a bite of toast in favour of ignoring James.

            “You can’t ignore me forever,” James says, smiling in what Remus is sure James believes to be a winning way. Remus thinks he looks a bit deranged.

            Lily swallows and considers James for a moment before saying, “Challenge accepted,” then turning back to her breakfast in quiet triumph.

            James blinks and deflates a bit. Lily winks at Remus when James turns away, causing a flush to creep up his face.

            “What am I doing wrong?” James asks. Peter and Remus just stare at him. Remus tries to ignore Sirius, who is staring at him through slightly narrowed eyes. He shifts uncomfortably and considers James’ question.

            “I think maybe the easier question is what _aren’t_ you doing wrong,” Remus suggests. “It certainly has a shorter answer.”

            “Fine,” James says. “All right. That’s it then.” For a wild moment Remus thinks James is about to abandon his pursuit of Lily Evans. “Operation Win-Over-Lily-Evans commences now.”

So ‘no’ on the abandonment then, Remus thinks.

            “Isn’t that sort of what you’ve been doing all along?” Peter asks.

            “No, I mean business now.” James now has an odd, slightly frightening, look of determination on his face.

            “I dunno mate,” Sirius says. “I think Wormtail has a point. You should just call it Operation What-I’ve-Been-Doing-Since-I-Decided-Girls-Don’t-Have-Cooties. Or Operation This-Is-Just-Like-Every-Other-Day.”

            “Operation Hopeless,” Peter puts in helpfully.

            “Operation Humiliation,” Remus can’t help but contribute.

            “Excellent,” Sirius beams at him. “It even rhymes.”

            James glares at them, but manages to look dejected anyway, so Remus takes pity on him.

            “Maybe if your attempts weren’t always so public,” Remus says. “Get her alone sometime. Talk to her one-on-one.”

            “She barely talks to me with other people around!” James protests.

            Remus frowns as he considers the truth of this and then it dawns on him that James might actually be afraid to talk to her one-on-one. James knows how to work a crowd, so when she rejects him publicly he can turn it into a grand show and laugh it off. Alone, he doesn’t have this opportunity.

            “Well clearly your public displays of—for lack of a better word—affection, aren’t working,” Remus says.

            “Then what would you suggest oh Wise Sage of Wooing Women?” James crosses his arms over his chest and juts his chin stubbornly.

            Remus chooses to ignore his excessive use of sarcasm. “I don’t know anything about ‘wooing women’ you daft wanker. I just know enough not to do what you do.”

            “You know, you might want to listen to Moony,” Sirius points out. “Evans actually likes him. They have conversations. Ones that don’t end in his sprouting cabbages from his ears.”

            James makes a pained face reminiscent of constipation.

            “Besides,” Sirius continues, “We should actually be discussing potential pranks for Halloween. It’s going to be difficult enough to top last year’s without all this time wasted trying to pull.”

            James and Remus both open their mouths at the same time to launch their respective protests. Sirius silences them with raised hands.

            “First of all, Prongs, I don’t want to hear it,” Sirius says. “Second of all, Moony, we won’t force you to sully your prefectly reputation, so you can get that painful look off your face.”

            “Whatever happened to making the suits of armour chase the Slytherins about all day?” Peter asks.

            “See,” Sirius says, pulling Peter in for a one-armed hug. “Here is a bloke who has his priorities straight.”

            “All right, all right,” James says, raising his palms in surrender. “No more Evans talk. At least for now.” He pauses with a contemplative look on his face. “I bet we could get that armour thing to work,” he says finally.

            “That’s the spirit!” Sirius exclaims gleefully.

            Remus sinks back behind his paper, this time trying to lose himself in “Diluted Dragon’s Blood: How the Lowering Standards Are Affecting Potion-Makers Everywhere.”

***

            The day of the Hogsmeade trip arrives in full autumn colours—a crisp breeze running around the grounds ushering in the early cold weather. James makes his way down to the village with Peter, Remus, and Sirius. They are trailing closely behind Lily and a few other Gryffindor girls. As such James is only half paying attention to what the rest of them are talking about.

            “James!” Sirius says sharply. “Can you at least _pretend_ to forget about Evans for about two minutes?”

            “What?” James asks, tearing his eyes away from the mass of red hair ahead of him. She looks even more spectacular among the changing trees—like she’s a part of this autumn spectacle.

            “We still haven’t figured out that spell for the suits of armour,” Sirius says. “Halloween’s less than a week away.”

            James frowns. “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to.”

            Sirius scowls at him. James knows he’s frustrated that they haven’t been able to figure out the spell. Sirius has this mentality about him that they (or at least he and James) should be able to work any spell they come across. And it’s not as though they wouldn’t be able to work it out eventually. It’s just that the spell is immensely complex. And they’re running out of time.

If Remus were to help them they could probably figure it out, but no one’s even bothered asking him. Every time they even mention the prank he goes all stiff and comes over in a fit of deafness. He’s doing it now, and if James hadn’t seen him do it repeatedly for the past two weeks he’d think Remus was about to have a seizure.

            “Well we need to think of something else then,” Sirius snaps.

            “All right,” James says defensively. “Keep your shirt on.”

            Sirius huffs and glances over at Remus who is pointedly looking in the opposite direction. “Does anyone have _any_ ideas?” he demands.

            Peter gives him a ‘don’t look at me’ expression.

            Remus turns and raises his eyebrows. “Do you?” he asks.

            Sirius opens his mouth to respond, but when nothing comes out James takes over.

            “Let’s just go to Zonko’s and maybe inspiration will strike,” he suggests.

            “Fine,” Sirius says. His voice has an edge of sulkiness that James will always be slightly fascinated by. No one in the history of the world has ever perfected the art of the sulk like Sirius Black.

            “You could probably charm dungbombs to shoot out from under the armour’s visors,” Remus suddenly suggests.

            Sirius stops walking and blinks at him. James raises his eyebrows in surprise and can’t help the little shot of pride he feels. James is used to these things from Sirius, but from Remus it’s always pleasantly unexpected. He’s not an entirely hopeless case after all. They’ve taught him well.

            “What?” Remus asks, having to turn now that he’s several paces ahead.

            “What happened to your staunch disapproval?” Sirius asks as they continue towards the high street.

            “I’m not saying I’ll help you,” Remus says. “It’s not my fault if you act upon my speculation.”

            James can’t help but grin. Trust Remus to find a loophole in taking responsibility for this.

            “Does this mean you’ll stop getting that look on your face whenever we bring it up?” Peter asks.

            Remus frowns. “I don’t get a look,” he insists.

            “Ha!” Sirius bursts. “You do. It’s such a look. Your mouth goes all tense like you’ll never be able to open it again.”

            Peter nods in agreement.

            “Sorry, mate,” James shrugs. “He’s right.”

            They all watch in amusement as Remus’ face promptly arranges itself into such a look.

            “Come on, Zonko’s is just up there,” Sirius says.

            James suddenly perks up when he sees Lily breaking off from her friends to head towards the Three Broomsticks.

            “Butterbeer first, don’t you think?” James asks. He doesn’t wait for their reply, but hurries after Lily.

            “Oi!” Sirius shouts after him. “Prongs! We need dungbombs!”

            “They can wait!” James shouts back.

He doesn’t bother to check if they’re following him. He’s trying to work out A Plan. Maybe she’ll let him buy her a drink? If he could just _talk_ to her for five minutes without anyone interfering or her yelling at him then he can convince her that he’s all she’s ever wanted in a boyfriend.

            Inside the Three Broomsticks the air is warm and comforting. It smells like old wood and good food. James wanders up behind Lily as she makes her way to the bar, trying his best not to look like a stalker, though he thinks he might be failing.

            Just as he’s about to say something to her she slips on some spilled butterbeer and nearly wipes out. On instinct James darts forward to steady her.

            “Careful there, Evans,” James says as he catches her in one smooth, confident gesture. This he can do. This is all his natural Quidditch skills being put to good use.

            James is vaguely aware that his friends are close by, but he’s too distracted by the fact that he is _touching Lily Evans_ , one hand on the small of her back and the other deftly gripping her elbow, to really pay them much mind. It’s the most contact they’ve ever had that didn’t involve Lily slapping him across the face. James tries to make his brain work faster, to come up with something clever to say, but he’s so close and he can smell the strawberry scent of her shampoo. It’s extremely distracting. Girls shouldn’t be allowed to have nicely scented soaps and shampoos. It’s difficult enough to talk to them coherently without all those lovely smells hanging about them and fogging up his thought process.

            As soon as Lily is steady on her feet she steps back from James. She looks thoroughly conflicted and more than a little suspicious.

            “What?” James asks innocently.

            Lily narrows her eyes at him.

            “You don’t think I _made_ you slip just so I could catch you?” James asks. He knows his eyes have gone absurdly wide, but can she really think so little of him?

            “No,” Lily says. “I just…” James takes a moment to marvel at the bald confliction playing across her face.

            “I think ‘thank you’ is the appropriate response,” James teases, switching gears from righteous indignation to suave flirtation. “I just saved your life, Evans.”

            He thinks maybe this exaggeration is going a bit too far, but he grins at her anyway, like her knight in shining armour, because maybe if he plays the part then she’ll see it too.

Instead Lily rolls her eyes and makes a move to turn away haughtily when Snape skulks up behind her.

            “Is he bothering you?” he asks, voice as nasally as ever.

            James and Sirius both twitch automatically towards their wands. Remus eyes him and Sirius warily while Peter looks on with a sort of frightened fascination.

            “No,” James spits before Lily can even open her mouth to answer.

            “I wasn’t asking _you_ ,” Snape says with disdain. His eyes travel over James in distaste, as one would examine an unidentifiable stickiness on the bottom of a shoe.

            “And I don’t think Evans was asking _you_ to stick your giant nose into other people’s business,” James retorts. His shoulders have tensed and he takes a small step towards Snape, raising himself to his full height to emphasize his advantage.

            Lily watches James to see what he’ll do next. Her eyes dart nervously to Snape who is already clutching his wand.

            Snape’s lip curls unpleasantly and he says, “Worried I’ll find something out about you?”

            James’s jaw tightens. Snape gives Remus a significant look and Sirius steps forward so that’s level with James.

            “What do you want, Snivellus?” Sirius snarls.

            “Ah, of course, Potter can’t do anything without his sidekick,” Snape practically hisses. James can see the wariness on his face though, which is encouraging.

            “Go harass someone else, won’t you?” James says.

            Snape bristles and looks like he’s about the retort, but Sirius interrupts him. “Yes, won’t you? The smell is starting to get to me.”

            Lily, who has maintained an astonishing silence throughout the whole exchange, suddenly gets her back up. “Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure out of bullying people?” she says. Her glare is aimed at Sirius.

            “Some people,” Sirius replies.

            She turns to James instead. “You know, for one moment I think you might actually be a normal, _civil_ person, and then you go and prove me wrong,” she says. It nearly comes out as a growl. With a scathing glance at Sirius and a look of unmitigated disappointment aimed at Remus she turns and says, “Come on, Sev. Let’s find a table.”

            “She can’t be serious?” James says as he watches the two walk away. Sirius doesn’t even bother to make the obvious joke.

Snape glances back in triumph and Remus grabs James’ arm when he moves to launch himself bodily at the greasy git. He can’t believe Lily would rather spend her time with Severus Snape of all people.

Remus looks at Sirius imploringly.

“Hey,” Sirius says, cuffing James affectionately on the shoulder. “We’ll get him, yeah? Halloween. Dungbombs for everyone and a little something special just for Snivellus.”

James lets out a great breath and nods. “Something very special. Great giant-nosed git isn’t going to get away with this.” He makes a noise of disgust. “ _Sev_ ,” he says with all the disdain he can muster (it’s not as much as Sirius can, but the Black disdain is a force to be reckoned with). “Did you hear what she called him?”

“Do you think he calls her ‘Lil’?” Peter asks.

“Yeurgh,” James replies, eyeing Peter with distaste. “Never again. Just. Don’t even think.” He shudders then glares in the direction of Snape and Lily. “Halloween,” he says with gravity. “Severus Snape is going to pay.”

***

Halloween dawns quietly over the castle. Nothing out of the ordinary occurs before breakfast—that is if you don’t count Sirius hiding under your bed and grabbing your ankles when you get up to brush your teeth. Peter swears he did not scream like a girl, thank you very much, no matter what Sirius says.

At breakfast James’ knee bounces nervously while Sirius heads over to the Slytherin table under the pretext of talking to Regulus. It’s strange to think that Sirius has a brother. James always seems so much more like one than Regulus and Sirius hardly ever mentions his family. Peter wonders if Regulus is at _all_ like Sirius, similarities in appearance aside. They might as well be strangers for the number of times they speak to each other.

Sirius is leaning low next to Regulus, who is seated conveniently close to Snape. James is now jiggling his leg so much he appears to be vibrating. His glasses threaten to slide off his face at any moment. Remus is determinedly reading his morning _Prophet_ , paper raised high enough that he can’t see what’s going on around him.

Peter doesn’t envy Remus one bit. He can’t imagine being made prefect and having to attempt dissuading Sirius and James from their various antics. Not that anyone would make Peter prefect. And, Peter reasons, more often than not Remus feigns ignorance. Peter thinks it’s the only way Remus can stay sane.

Sirius walks towards them triumphantly and takes a seat beside James and across from Remus.

“Phase Two complete,” he says cheerfully, picking up several crumpets and buttering them over-generously.

“What was Phase One?” Peter asks.

“Making the potion,” Sirius says, the unsaid ‘obviously’ manifesting itself in his expression. Sirius has a way of making Peter feel inordinately stupid. On one level Peter knows that he speaks like this to everyone at some point, even James and Remus, though the occasion is rare. On another level it makes him wonder if Sirius is only his friend because James is. Or Remus.

“Crumpet, Moony?” Sirius asks, holding one over Remus’ paper so that butter drips down his fingers and leaves greasy spots on an advertisement for talismans against dark creatures ( _Effective Against Vampires, Inferi, Werewolves and More!_ —he’s pretty sure Remus won’t care).

“You’re dripping on my paper,” Remus says blandly, not looking up. The corners of his mouth are twitching though, giving him away.

Sirius grins—a smug and self-satisfied smile that on anyone else would be unattractive, but on Sirius just serves to highlight his best features. Such a grin would probably make Peter look like a roast pig.

“I never thought I’d day this,” Sirius says through a mouthful of crumpet. “But I can’t wait for Potions.”

Remus casts him a wary look and turns back to his paper.

***

One period later Slughorn is writing instructions on the board while students shuffle in their bags for their texts and various ingredients. Sirius watches Snape avidly, not paying attention to what he’s pulling out of his bag. He can’t tell if the potion is working yet. Snape has such a large nose to begin with that a slight increase in size won’t be noticeable. But then Snape keeps reaching up to rub his nose and Sirius is sure that it’s starting to take effect.

He aims a kick at James under the table, but hits Remus instead who looks up and glares at him.

“Sirius, you’ve pulled out your transfiguration textbook,” Remus says exasperatedly.

Sirius looks down and then shrugs. He’s also pulled out his dragon hide gloves used in Herbology, a nearly empty inkwell, and several dungbombs.

Not five minutes after Slughorn has given them directions Sirius hears Lily saying something to Snape.

“Are you all right?” she asks, concern writ large over her face.

James snickers and looks behind him to where Snape and Lily are working together. Snape touches his nose tentatively and looks down at it cross-eyed. Lily’s eyes widen as his nose starts to noticeably grow larger and take over his face. Snape grabs at his nose more tightly as though to try and stop it from getting any bigger and looks at Lily in panic.

“Something wrong, Snivellus?” Sirius says, only just loud enough for those immediately near them to hear.

Lily looks away from Snape to glare at him. Then she turns her gaze to James, who is grinning with barely suppressed glee, and says, “You did this.”

James attempts a look of wide-eyed innocence that is ruined by his amusement over the ever-growing size of Snape’s nose, which is quickly beginning to hide his mouth.

“Did what then?” James inquires.

“His nose!” Lily yells as Snape tries to hide behind his hands. His face is beginning to turn purple with rage, but his nose is too large for him to even say anything about it.

“What?” Sirius asks. “Doesn’t look any different to me.”

Lily’s cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink as she shouts, “I know it was you! So fix it! Make it stop!”

Sirius has to admit that she’s actually quite attractive like this. Few girls can make righteous anger look that good. He wonders if maybe James makes her angry just so he can see her eyes like that, even more green against the heightened colour in her face.

By now they have the attention of the entire class and Snape’s nose has grown to such a size that at any moment he’s going to have trouble keeping his head up. Many of the other students have joined in the laughter, only a few (Slytherins mostly) showing even the barest hint of concern. Slughorn hurries over and says, “Oh my!” the moment he catches sight of Snape.

James tries to hide his laughter, but has to lean against the table for support. Peter is smiling in amusement while Remus looks torn between laughter and abject horror. Sirius lets out a bark of laughter and shrugs when Lily looks at him.

“Oh my!” Slughorn says again. “What’s happened?” He pauses momentarily, looking thoroughly helpless, and then says, “Never mind. I’ll escort you to the hospital wing. Everyone else is to stay here and not touch anything.”

Lily watches in concern as they leave the classroom and then rounds on James and Sirius. James is almost doubled over by this point and has to wipe tears from his eyes.

“You are a despicable human being James Potter,” she says, her voice low and dangerous. It is a mark of how funny James finds the whole situation that this makes him laugh harder.

“I expected better, at least, from you, Remus,” she says. Remus says nothing, merely looks down and picks at the spine of his textbook with a ragged thumbnail.

“He had nothing to do with this,” Sirius says, jumping to Remus’ defense. “So leave him out of it.”

Lily manages a look of disgust before turning away and moving her cauldron as far from the four of them as she can manage.

James sighs as he catches his breath from laughing. “I don’t even care if she hates me right now,” he says. “That was wonderful. Did you see the look on his face? We should do that every year.”

Peter lets out a small cackle of laughter and Sirius grins widely. “Next time we’ll time it for the lunch period. Everyone in the Hall will see it.”

Remus sighs and Sirius feels a shot of remorse, not for what they did to Snape, but for what Remus has to put up with. Sirius walks around to the other side of the table and rests his arm along Remus’ shoulders.

“You’re allowed to smile you know,” he says, knocking his forehead into Remus’ temple. “It was funny. We won’t judge you.”

“Well I should hope not, otherwise I might have to judge you, and I think you’d find I wouldn’t be as forgiving,” Remus says, but he does smile. And Sirius grins so large he thinks his face might split.

Best. Halloween. Ever.

And they haven’t even set off the dungbombs yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Sirius’ hands are cold. Not that this is anything new. His hands are always cold. But usually he doesn’t notice. Usually it’s other people who notice. Like when he sticks his fingers down the back of James’ shirt just to hear that ridiculous screech he makes. This kind of cold is entirely different. This is frigid, biting, fingers-going-to-snap-like-icicles-at-any-moment cold. He should have worn mittens.

            Strike that.

            He shouldn’t have let his friends drag him into such an absurd pastime as _ice-skating_. What was the _point_ of it anyway? He doesn’t want to acknowledge that much of his reason for not liking ice-skating is because he happens to be horrible at it. Really. Horrible. It is this—the knowledge that the brilliant Sirius Black is not, in fact, good at everything—that is fuelling his current bad mood.

            It doesn’t help that Peter is quite literally skating circles around him. And James is gliding around like he’s been doing it his whole life, though he hasn’t.

            And Remus…well… He’d expected Remus to be good at it, since it was his bloody idea after all. But did he really need to look so _smug_ about it?

            Peter speeds up to Sirius suddenly, causing him to lurch back instinctively and stumble. He over-balances and falls backwards, landing hard on his rear. Now his arse is cold as well. And damp.

            Remus glides over and stops abruptly beside him, spraying ice shavings into his face. Sirius blinks several times and wipes the snow from his eyes.

            “Sorry,” Remus says, with a grin that confirms he did that on purpose.

            “This is ridiculous.” A particularly cold gust of wind whips around his face and right through the jacket he’s wearing.

            “Don’t be grumpy just because you’re bad at it.”

            Sirius scowls.

            Remus chuckles and looks down at him with amusement. “You can’t be good at everything.”

            “Why not?” Sirius asks petulantly, garnering a snort from Remus. “Well, I’m good at everything else,” he adds insistently.

            Remus rolls his eyes and says, “Unbelievable.”

            “What?”

            “Just when I think you’ve reached the apex of your egotism, you surpass yourself.”

            “Hmph.”

            “Come on,” Remus says, stretching out a hand to pull him up. “You just need practice. It’s better than sitting there freezing your arse off.”

            “It’s numbing the pain,” Sirius replies, but takes Remus’ hand and lets him pull him upright.

            “Have you injured your poor bottom?” Remus asks, voice threatening to spill over into laughter.

            “It’ll be one giant bruise by morning,” Sirius insists, rubbing his hand gently over his backside. “Can’t we just have a snowball fight like normal people?” It would be good to throw things at people right now.

            “Just give it another half hour,” Remus says, watching Sirius as he makes another attempt on the skates. “You can’t just shuffle, Sirius. Look. Push with one foot, and glide, then just go back and forth like that.”

            He pushes off and in one wide, graceful arc reaches Sirius’ other side.

            “What’s going on here, lads?” James asks, appearing suddenly beside Remus. His hair looks much like it does when he steps off the Quidditch pitch—unruly and windswept—and he’s grinning from ear to ear.

            Sirius glares at him for daring to have such ease with a pair of skates.

            “Having trouble there, Padfoot?” James asks, the amusement at his friend’s misfortune apparent in every syllable.

            Sirius makes a sound of annoyance at the back of his throat like a growl. What was supposed to be a fun, diverting activity, is rapidly heightening Sirius’ already bad mood.

            “What are we all standing about for?” Peter calls out as he changes directions on a dime to join their cluster at the edge of the frozen lake.

            “Oh, Sirius has just discovered he isn’t good at something is all,” Remus explains. He’s still wearing that annoying smile—smug and every inch trying not to laugh. Normally Sirius wouldn’t mind his friends poking fun at his expense. He does it often enough at theirs that it’s only fair. But the bubble of frustration pressing against his lungs is mutating into something more sinister.

            “It had to happen sometime, mate,” James says, clapping Sirius once on the shoulder before racing back to the middle of the lake.

            “It hasn’t happened to you,” Sirius snarls back. He kind of wants to hit him.

            Peter shrugs helplessly and says, “Just keep trying,” before taking off after James.

            “Bastards,” Sirius mutters. “This is bollocks. I’m done with it.”

            He turns to shuffle towards the solid shore, and all its glorious friction, so he can sit down and remove these infernal skates. Remus follows and his mere presence causes Sirius’ irritation level to spike.

            “You don’t have to bloody follow me, Remus. I can handle being alone for a few hours,” he snaps. It comes out harsher than he intended.

            He immediately regrets it when he catches the look on Remus’ face—confusion mixed with concern, which only makes it all the worse.

            “Just thought you might like some company,” Remus mutters, voice getting almost completely lost in the wool of his scarf.

Sirius isn’t sure if Remus is annoyed with him, or if he’s actually a bit hurt. Normally Remus just ignores Sirius when he snipes at him, having grown accustomed to his often-short temper.

Remus meets Sirius’ gaze directly, amber eyes keen and alert, with a hint of animal instinct behind them, and asks, “Is this really about the skating?”

            Sirius bites out, “No. It’s about the fact that I can’t feel my bloody toes.” He can’t help himself now that he’s on the defensive.

            Remus doesn’t take his eyes off Sirius, but Sirius can see him chewing lightly at the inside of his cheek the way he does when he’s trying to decide his next chess move.

            Finally Remus sighs, looking every bit resigned, and says, “I saw the letter this morning. Came at breakfast. Looked like your family’s seal.”

            The reminder has Sirius swallowing back bile. He hasn’t even bothered opening it yet. Currently it’s lodged among his stack of textbooks, having shoved it between the pages of his Potions tome right after leaving the Great Hall.

            “What did it say?” Remus asks.

            Sirius shrugs, scraping the ice with the blade of his skate absent-mindedly. He watches in mild fascination as he creates a tiny mound of snow on the smooth surface. He can’t look at Remus though.

            “You didn’t read it,” Remus says, no hint of a question.

            Sirius raises his eyes tentatively. The sympathy in Remus’ face is almost unbearable and suddenly Sirius wants nothing more than to move forward and bury his face in Remus’ neck. But that’s just not something you do with your male mates, so instead he simply holds Remus’ gaze to prevent himself from recalling his mother’s expression of disgust and his father’s disapproving, disappointed stare.

Remus looks for a moment like he might move forward himself to embrace Sirius, but apparently thinks better of it, and says, with a nod at Sirius’ feet, “Well, you can only get better.”

            Sirius lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He’s so grateful he wants to laugh. Instead he settles for a lopsided grin and asks, “Any suggestions?”

            Remus considers him for a moment. “I could skate backwards and you could hang onto my hands so you don’t fall.”

            Sirius throws him a skeptical look. He’s not sure how he feels about holding Remus’ hands all the way around the lake.

            “Oh, don’t be so proud,” says Remus, reaching out gloved hands, and with those simple words the mood around Sirius lifts completely. The edge of exasperation, coupled with the underlying amusement, in Remus’ voice is so blissfully familiar that Sirius can’t help but chuckle.

            Remus grabs Sirius’ hands tightly, the wool of his gloves slightly damp but warming nonetheless.

            “Okay, now push off gently with one foot.”

            Sirius does and stumbles, but Remus holds him steady.

            “Don’t try and walk, they’re not shoes.”

            Sirius tries again and this time glides forward a bit. Remus grins at him, raising his eyebrows in a gesture that says, ‘See?’ and begins to move slowly backwards. Sirius follows, gradually feeling steadier on his feet.

            “How are you doing that?” Sirius asks, as Remus moves effortlessly backwards in a smooth, curving zig-zag motion.

            He chuckles in response. “Years of practice,” he says. “There’s a pond in my backyard and Dad and I would go skating every winter.”

            “Muggles are weird,” Sirius says fondly, grinning as he and Remus pick up speed.

            “I’m going to let go now,” Remus says, loosening his grip on Sirius’ hands.

            Sirius immediately longs for the warmth back in his fingers, but he doesn’t fall. Remus continues backwards, arms held slightly in front of him so that he can grab Sirius if needs be.

            “Looky here!” James crows suddenly. “He skates!” He raises triumphant arms in the air.

            Peter glides up beside Remus and imitates his backwards motion, saying, “See? It’s not that hard.”

            Sirius beams at the three of them, though a part of him feels about five years old and like he’s just learned how to tie his shoelaces. Not that tying his shoelaces would have ever garnered such a reaction from his parents as he’d just gotten from James. For some reason Sirius finds this hilarious—that his fifteen-year-old best friend is more enthusiastic about his feeble attempts at skating than his parents have ever been about anything—and he laughs out loud. The force of his laughter unbalances him, and he has to latch onto James so that he doesn’t fall, but suddenly the letter loses its importance as he’s overwhelmed with gratitude for his friends.

            It isn’t until they have Potions the next day that he remembers the letter. It falls to the floor, creased and ripped in one corner, as he gathers his books after breakfast. With a sigh of resignation he bends down and breaks the seal to unfold the battered parchment. The black ink is harsh across the page in his mother’s sharp, angled cursive.

_Sirius,_

_Regulus has just informed us that you intend to spend Christmas with that Potter boy and his parents. Pureblood they may be, but they are blood traitors, Sirius, and you are better than that. As heir to the House of Black you have a duty to your family. Christmas is a tradition that has been upheld for centuries and we will not allow you to dismiss it simply because you are having a fit of rebellion. We will be waiting for you and your brother when you arrive at King’s Cross, so if you are harboring any intentions of disobeying you will be sorely disappointed._

_You are a Black. Disappointing though you have been these past years it is time for you take on the responsibility you were born into. Regulus has generously offered to make introductions among his friends and we expect that you will accept this offer gratefully and without complaint. There is no need to send us a response. We will be seeing you in one week’s time and so help me if you make this difficult it will be the last time._

_Toujours Pur_

_Walburga Black_

            Sirius reads it through twice before crumpling it in his fist. He can feel himself shaking slightly and he kicks out hard at his trunk to vent some of the anger that is rising rapidly in his chest.

            “Fuck!” he yells, when his small toe catches the metal corner and he feels a small crunch as the bone breaks. “Bloody hell.”

He falls back onto his bed, dropping the letter, and yanks his shoe off with his sock to survey the damage. It’s already bruising.

“Padfoot?” James says, poking his head into their dorm. “You okay?”

“Stubbed my toe,” Sirius grumbles as James walks over to the bed.

Before Sirius can brush the whole thing off as mere stupidity, James is bending down to fish the crumpled letter off the floor. The look of disgust that takes over James’ face as he reads the letter would be comical if Sirius weren’t so angry. By the time James finishes reading he’s holding the parchment between his thumb and forefinger as though it’s someone’s well-used hanky.

“When did this arrive?” he asks.

Sirius is still prodding at his broken toe and not looking at James. He chances a glance up and James rolls his eyes and whips his wand out with a muttered, “Episkey.” There is another small crunch as the bone repairs and just as suddenly the pain is gone. Sirius flexes his toes experimentally.

“Is this from yesterday?” James tries again.

“What difference does it make?” Sirius snaps, pulling his sock roughly over his foot.

James crumples the letter back up and sets it on fire with his wand. It burns in midair until it’s a pile of ashes on Sirius’ bed.

“Did you have to do that on my bed?” Sirius asks.

James rolls his eyes again. “It’s gone, isn’t it?” He sits down heavily next to Sirius. “Pretend it never existed.”

Sirius clenches his jaw, wishing it were that simple. Wishing he could pretend that his entire family never existed.

“Since when do you ever listen to what they tell you to do anyway?” James asks. His glasses are slightly crooked on his face, adding to the air of general madness that his hair always affords him.

“Never.”

“So why’s this any different? You’re still coming to my place for Christmas hols and Remus and Pete will be there for New Years. Just tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“They’re getting more persistent,” Sirius explains, rubbing his hand roughly over his face. “The closer I get to my seventeenth birthday the more they feel the need to remind me that I’m a Black, that I’m the heir, _Toujours Pur_ and all that other bullshit.”

“Well, just think, once you’re seventeen you can be shot of them for good. It’s not that far away really,” James reasons. “But right now we’re going to be late for Potions, and I don’t fancy giving Slughorn a reason to give us another detention. At this rate we’ll never make another Quidditch practice again.”

Sirius gives a small huff of amusement and James shoves him affectionately in the shoulder.

As they make their way down the corridor Sirius glances at his best friend. “Thanks, by the way,” he says.

James waves a hand to brush him off.

“No, really,” Sirius says, because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t say it enough, and he honestly has no idea what he would do without James—James, who is always his beacon of sanity when his family becomes too much, and who never feels the need to pass judgement. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the best friend in world, I know,” James teases. “You sound like Remus.”

Sirius laughs. “Shut up. We’re going to be late.”

“We’d better run then,” James says, and with a wicked grin takes off down the hall in an unspoken race.

“Bastard!” Sirius shouts, and nearly drops his bag in his attempt to catch up.

***

Remus sees them first, as he, Peter, Sirius, and James are heading down to breakfast. The Hogwart’s Express is due to leave in two hours to take them all home for the holidays. But all thoughts of the holidays are jarred from Remus’ mind when he sees Orion and Walburga Black standing outside the Great Hall. They look formidable in black robes that, in spite of their simplicity, ooze wealth and high breeding. They should look out of place here, among the chattering students excited by the prospect of time off, but they don’t. Instead they succeed in causing their surroundings to look misplaced, like they are exactly where they’re supposed to be and the environment is encroaching on them.

Looking at them, it is easy to see where Sirius gets his good looks. If it weren’t for the severity of their expressions and postures they would be breathtaking. Instead there is an edge to them that threatens to slice right through anyone who gets too close. Sirius is every inch his mother, a much younger, male version of her. Even their eyes are the same grey, with only the barest hint of blue, and that spark of madness behind them that Remus sometimes sees in Sirius but seems to be permanent in Walburga.

Remus stops abruptly on the top step and stays James with a hand on his arm. James glances over, still smiling at something Sirius just said, and Remus tilts his chin towards the Blacks. The smile immediately falls from James’ face. Remus grabs Peter on his other side to stop him as James says, “Shit, Sirius, mate.”

Sirius is still chuckling to himself when he stops behind James and asks, “What?”

“Your parents,” James says quietly, his eyes trained on the aristocratic figures below.

The change in Sirius’ expression is as immediate as it is drastic. He looks as though someone has wiped all possibility of emotion from him. Remus thinks he’s never seen a truly blank stare until right now because there is absolutely nothing there. It’s almost frightening. His parents return his gaze steadily. It is like a dare. Remus is surprised the entire school can’t feel the tension, though a few students passing them on the stairs look wary and scurry past silently, not even daring to look at each other.

“Fuck,” Sirius breathes. It’s so quiet that Remus isn’t even sure he heard properly.

“What are they doing here?” Peter asks, his voice not daring to rise about a whisper.

Sirius shakes his head a fraction and starts down the stairs. He glances back saying, “I’ll meet you in there, yeah?”

James nods and claps his hand briefly on Sirius’ shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze before starting down the stairs towards the Hall.

Remus can feel the disdain and disapproval of Orion’s stare as they pass through the doors. Walburga doesn’t spare them a glance though, keeping her eyes trained on her eldest son as if she means to hypnotize him. Remus doesn’t dare attempt more than a sideways glance as they pass through the great oak doors. Even James is keeping his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.

They head to Gryffindor table in silence and take a seat among their peers feeling worlds away from the surrounding laughter and loud voices.

“I forgot how scary they are,” Peter says quietly as he reaches for the scrambled eggs.

James and Remus exchange a worried look. Remus’ stomach is in knots, his intestines twisting painfully as he thinks of Sirius out there with his parents. It feels almost like betrayal, leaving him there alone.

James glances at the doors and takes the eggs from Peter, dumping some on his plate without really paying attention and mostly missing his plate. “Bugger,” he mutters when he sees the mess he’s made on the table. He doesn’t bother cleaning it up though.

“Do you think they’ll force him to go with them?” Peter asks. His plate is piled with food, but he’s not touching it.

James shakes his head. “No way,” he says, and Remus hopes he’s as confident as he sounds. “They can’t do anything with Dumbledore around.”

Remus thinks about this and realizes James is probably right. He takes a piece of toast and half-heartedly spreads some marmalade on it.

“What do you reckon they want?” Peter asks. Remus wishes he would stop asking questions.

James doesn’t answer.

“They looked angry,” Remus says, finally finding his voice.

James nods and they exchange another look before James turns to the door again.

Remus is sure that time has stopped as he alternates between staring at the doors and picking at his toast. He can’t bring himself to eat any of it. He wishes everyone in the Hall would stop talking so he might hear what was going on outside. He strains his ears, trying to call up all his extra wolf senses, to catch a hint of anything that might be telling. The lack of commotion outside is disconcerting. Walburga is known to shout and Remus had expected to hear her by now.

Before Remus has a real chance to wonder at her silence Sirius is striding towards them. He’s smiling, but even at a distance Remus can tell that it’s forced. None of them say anything when he sits down. James is watching him carefully.

“Has someone died?” Sirius asks as he grabs a plate and helps himself to three crumpets.

“What happened?” James asks. He’s the only one who can ask Sirius such direct questions about his parents and expect an answer.

Sirius drops the knife that he was using to attack the butter and narrows his eyes at James. For a moment Remus thinks he’s going to yell at him, but instead he just sighs and sinks slightly in his seat.

“What else?” he asks. “Same old bullshit. House of Black _blah, blah, blah,_ duty as the heir, _bullshit, bullshit,_ your brother, etc. _Toujours pur._ ”

He spits out the last phrase with a level of disgust he can only have learned from his parents. But there’s still something about the way he says it that causes Remus to cringe internally—something in the way his accent changes, the way his tongue wraps around the syllables as though it’s his first language. Sirius probably doesn’t even notice that he does it.

“I’m still coming with you today,” he says to James.

James nods. “All right then.”

“I saved you some sausages,” Peter says, lifting his plate towards Sirius.

“Thanks, Pete,” Sirius says, spearing three at once and transferring them to his pile of eggs.

He grins at the three of them and Remus is almost convinced that he’s okay. Something in his eyes gives him away though, and the set of his jaw. He has an oddly determined look about him that doesn’t fit with what just happened. Remus is sure he’s leaving out an important part of the story, but when Sirius decides to keep something to himself not even James can get it out of him.

For his part James has learned to read Sirius and know when to push and when to leave it. Remus likes to think he’s fairly good at discerning this as well, but he has to fight every instinct not to push it. James can let a subject drop so easily that Remus often wants to ask him how he does it. Instead he settles for being constantly on the verge of permanently fraying his nerves where Sirius is involved. Sometimes it’s exhausting.

Hours later, after several games of exploding snap and too many chocolate frogs, they arrive at King’s Cross station. Remus is no more convinced than he was at breakfast that Sirius is okay. He’s been a nervous ball of energy the whole trip, his knee jiggling constantly and his hands finding their way into his hair so often that Remus is surprised they haven’t gotten permanently tangled there.

They’re clamoring through the crowd, trunks in tow, when Remus grabs James by the arm and tugs him aside. It’s easy to lose Sirius and Peter in the swarm of students trying to find their families. James raises his eyebrows and Remus is sure he knows what’s coming.

“He’s not telling us everything,” Remus says, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing towards the back of Sirius’ head.

“You think I don’t know that?” James asks, giving Remus a look like he should give him more credit.

Remus sighs. “I’m worried about him.”

James chuckles and shakes his head—not the reaction Remus was expecting. Especially when this morning, and for most of the train ride, James looked just as worried as Remus felt.

“What?” Remus asks.

“You two,” James says, grinning like he knows something that Remus should, but is unwilling to divulge.

Remus blinks, waiting for James to elaborate. His smug, all-knowing expression is maddening.

“You both worry too much,” he finally says.

“What does Sirius worry about?” Remus asks. He doesn’t mean to sound so incredulous.

James’ eyebrows jump behind his fringe. “You’re joking, right?”

Remus blinks again, more bewildered now than anything else.

“You, you daft tosser,” James says. “If I had a galleon for every time I had to reassure one of you that the other is going to be okay, I’d be twice as rich as I already am. And I can tell you, that’s saying something.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, Remus shifts his weight from one foot to the other and scuffs his shoe on the ground, not quite willing to believe James.

“He’s going to be fine,” James says, somehow knowing that Remus needs to hear him say it. “I won’t let him do anything stupid. In any case my parents won’t and Sirius would sooner go back to Grimmauld Place than do anything to upset my parents.”

Remus huffs, unable to argue with the weight of parental authority. “Okay.”

“Okay,” James says, and pulls Remus in for a hug. “I’ll see you for New Year’s.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll owl you if anything drastic happens, but I’ll keep an eye on him so don’t spend your entire holiday worrying,” James insists.

            He gives Remus an affectionate shove on his shoulder. With a final shake of his head and a quiet snort of amusement, James leaves to search for his parents.

            It’s only when Remus has located his own parents among the throng that he realizes he never said good-bye to Sirius.


End file.
